All I Want
by xxPeppermintxx109
Summary: People don't understand something until they lose it. Until they watch the thing they loved most slip from their hands like grains of sand. Time, youth, life, friends, love. All things we take for granted and never look back on until they're gone. And then all we want is to have them back. KlausxOC
1. Prologue

_A/N: I promised myself I wouldn't get caught up in writing yet another fan fiction. But I lied to myself. And She Was Death is on hold for now anyways and I'm in the middle Take Me. I'm also trying with a third chapter for Can't Pretend, so I'm actually pretty damn booked right now. But fuck that shit. I'm obsessing over Vampire Diaries right now and I can't stop this. Honestly, this idea popped in my mind and I was like, hot damn I need to write this book fast. So I will._

 _And since I'm too lazy to translate, as I'm fluent in Russian, French, and English, French will be italicized due to my laziness._

 _Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries even though I dream and wish every night that I did. But L. J. Smith owns it and Julie Plec developed this sinful book into a damn good tv show. I only own my OCs._

* * *

 **Prologue** **  
**

* * *

 **4th April, 1408; Outskirts of the Lorraine region of Fra nce**

A cry escaped the bundle of dirty cloth held to the chest of a woman. The heavy panting was coming from said woman as she was running. Her feet fell heavily upon soaking stone roads. Rain poured tremendously upon the civilized ground of Earth. The sky held a dark pallor, one that was so terrifying, no one else but the woman and a baby was to be seen in the streets. Simple candles that remained burning in their glass casings showed the way for the woman as she navigated the dirty streets. She was obviously running, running from someone or something. Either way, she seemed very, very concerned.

" _Shush, shush, Olyvar_ ," her thickly accented voice whispered in French. It was obvious she was not from the great country, she had to have been from somewhere further east and north. Perhaps the region that would one day become the great country of Russia. Yes, her accent was heavily laced with the roughness and depth of that of a Russian. The French words seemed to come naturally to her, but they seemed out of place on a foreign tongue.

" _We are almost there, my dear son_ ," she urged her son to stop his cries. " _When we arrive, you will be safe. When we arrive, you will be out of harm's way_ ," she seemed to chant, a worried tone overcoming her accent. She kept speaking those words over and over again, failing to mention her own safety. What was she running from? Or who was she running from? And once those questions were answered, why was she running? Why was her son's life in danger?

" _You will be safe and he will surely kill me_ ," she spoke softly, her running pace beginning to slow down. Her pace was now that of a jog, still running, but not sprinting like she had been. Perhaps she was nearing her destination. " _I will laugh as he removes my head, as he will have not and never will remove your's, my sweet Olyvar_ ," she seemed to coo towards her young son. How odd?

The woman suddenly froze as the sound of hooves clattering upon slippery stone resounded throughout the otherwise empty streets. She stood by a candle, underneath a wooden overhang. The light showed little of the woman's features but it showed enough.

She was young, probably around twenty-eight at the oldest. Her face was slightly rounded, a heart-shaped face with a slightly tan pallor that was more of a darker fair than anything. She held full lips that were currently set into a slightly agape setting, as she was fairly terrified at the moment. Her medium-brown eyebrows were straight and held a normal width and depth to them. They were currently furrowed at the moment, causing lines to form in between them. Her eyes were a brilliant blue that swam with fear, uncertainty, and sorrow. Her hair was covered by a muddied hood, but strands of honey-blonde hair fell out of place and were matted to her wet face. Overall, she was fairly pretty, good-looking really. But the looks on her face and in her eyes caused the attractiveness to melt away.

Her eyes darted rapidly around her, scrutinizing her surroundings before landing on a little side door to her right. She wasn't all for running into someone's establishment, that much was obvious. But she needed to hide until the horses passed.

The woman quickly ran across the little alleyway in between her previous spot and the door. Her slippers on her feet were soaking and she was in discomfort due to this fact, but she kept them on, simply for the sake of not wishing to leave behind any evidence. She held the now silent Olyvar to her chest, shielding her son from the rain as she sprinted across the slippery stones. Her body nearly crashed into the wall as she failed to stop slowly. But she stopped in enough time to not face plant into the stone and wood wall. Her left hand reached out, revealing a very nice ring with the symbol of the House of Valois, the current monarch's family house. How intriguing.

Her fingers curled around the makeshift doorknob and pushed, finding the door open easily without a sound. The woman quickly ushered herself and baby inside, shutting the door quickly and quietly behind her. She sighed in relief as she felt the warmth of the air engulf her. But that relief did not last for long.

Olyvar began crying once again, and whilst his sobs were actually a tad bit quiet, they were still noticeable to anyone in the house. And that's exactly how it was. The woman jumped, startled at the sound of a door opening and closing accompanied by the sounds of shuffling feet.

" _Shush, shush my son, please_ ," she rapidly cooed, holding her child in both arms and rocking him slightly. There was only darkness in the warm room, but the woman seemed convinced that she could see her child and her child could see her. The woman snapped her head to her right, hearing the clanging of metal and some curses muttered out in a male voice. A feminine voice then followed the string of curses, shushing the male's voice.

The woman didn't even have time to move before a candle flame engulfed the room.

" _Who's there_?" the man's voice called out. " _Show yourself or I will protect what is mine_ ," he threatened, his voice not sounding empty like most when threatening. The woman sucked in her breath and then a defeated look took over her features. She stepped forwards and decided to do as the man wished.

" _Please, kind sir,_ " she spoke softly, her voice still rough with her accent. " _I mean no harm,"_ she said, holding tightly onto her baby. What happened next, she had not been expecting.

Her blue eyes widened as they took in the sight of the man dropping his sword and getting upon his knees. Her mouth went agape as the woman next to him followed suit. " _My queen_ ," the man spoke urgently, " _forgive my threats, for if I had known it was you, I would not have uttered such words._ " The man's voice came out uneven, shaky, his French accent sounding a tad rough, probably due to his elderly age.

" _No, no_ ," she spoke hurriedly, putting out a hand to make them rise. " _I am no longer your queen_ ," she seemed…disappointed with this fact. So, she was the queen of France. Interesting, would explain the ring on her left finger. It would mean she married into the monarchy, probably being 'sold' from one high lord to the king, who just so happened to be Charles VI The Mad.

" _How could you no longer be the queen, my lady?_ " the wife of the man asked, rising unto her feet per her queen's request. " _You are beloved by everyone in France, your husband does not even compare_ ," she explained, as if this fact was difficult to come by.

" _Yes, well, my loving husband has just ordered for an execution of both myself and my son_ ," she explained, disdain coating her voice when she spoke of the man who was supposed to love her. But he was insane, a mad king who had never once touched the woman. Yet she had a son? Ah yes, infidelity did usually plague the French royalty.

" _My…my queen_?" the man stuttered, seemingly in shock. " _W-why would the king order such a thing_?!" he seemed to not be capable of realizing such things.

She waved a hand, practically ordering the two to be silent. " _It does not matter at the moment_ ," she said, sorrow filling her voice. She did not wish to leave France, for she had grown to love the country she had called home for ten years now. But she would have to leave and never return, something she did not wish on doing. She then spun her head to listen in on the hooves becoming louder and more prominent as they slammed down against the stoned-streets in the night. A look of fear and hurry replaced her features and she turned back to the couple.

" _Please, take my son and protect him,_ " the words fell out of her mouth hurriedly. She shoved her arms out and practically forced her son into the man's arms. " _Change his name, make sure he doesn't think of me, do anything and everything you can to ensure his survival, and that is my order as your queen,_ " she pleaded, her voice slightly breaking at points. All she could do was watch the couple vigorously nod their heads, the man looking down at the asleep child.

She smiled tightly at this and placed a light kiss on her son's forehead. The woman then whispered, " _I will back for you one day, my son. I promise._ "

With that, the woman spun quickly, pulling up her hood in the process. And then, she opened the side door and fled into the stormy night once more.


	2. Chapter 1

_A/N: Welcome to the first, real chapter of All I Want. Last chapter was the prologue, this chapter is номер один (chapter 1). Thanks for the support so far and let's delve into this story once again._

 _Disclaimer: I do not own TVD nor TO. Them and their characters belong to their respective owners._

 _The first few chapters will be set in different eras of time, as you all can probably guess why due to the prologue and time set there. But I hope that is alright? And disclaimer. I am not well-versed in how people spoke at this time, so please no flames for my lack of complete accuracy in that field. Enjoy :)_

* * *

 **Chapter 1** **  
**

* * *

 **5th April, 1409; Unknown, small village, England**

Niklaus sat, unamused by the attempts of his elder brother's to try and convince him to stay in England. England was boring to him and there was nothing for him to do here. The ladies were constantly laughing and gaining weight. Of course, they were always the more appetizing ones. But Klaus missed the thinner ones. They seemed to have more blood. He wasn't sure though and wasn't intent on conducting a search at the moment.

"Brother," Elijah's voice broke Klaus from his thoughts, his elder brother's constant formal tone a bit of a bother. "I plead that we stay here. I have promised to keep us all together, and whilst Kol and Rebekah learn to grow up a little, I say we stay here. Many queens seem enthralled by you and would not probably mind helping us, brother."

Klaus smirked at that. Ah, yes. The many queens of the lands who seemed to fall instantly in love with him. Of course, none of them were actually in love. Just looking for an out on their marriage. A way to become queen regent without the murder going onto their hands. It made Klaus roll his eyes. Every single one of them threw themselves at him and begged for help in exchange for their financial and political aid. Queen Joan of Navarre was the newest name in Klaus' list of "friends". She had just become queen not seven years yet, but was approaching six-and-a-half. She had too good of a relationship with her step-son for Klaus to do any real damage.

There was one queen however, that had proven to be the biggest blow to Klaus' ego. Queen Natalia of Lorraine. Eight years ago, she had visited him just after he and Elijah had become Lords near Wessex. Apparently she was to do business with King Henry IV, but due to the king being somewhat of an oaf and reasons unknown to Klaus, the Queen of France was sent to him to discuss some political affairs. He smirked lightly at the memory of the woman.

* * *

 ** _3rd May, 1401_**

 _"Brother, I believe we have a visitor," Elijah's voice rang out, clear as day to Klaus. It caused the original to turn his head from his work, currently a painting in progress for King Henry IV. Klaus brushed his hands down his tunic, looking down to inspect the blue fabric he was wearing to ensure no marks were left on him. No visitor should see him when unkempt._

 _"And who would that be?" Klaus called out to Elijah, standing from his stool to walk towards the front doors of their keep._

 _Their keep was small in comparison to others. Simple grey-stone was used to construct the home. It did have a bit of a wall surrounding it, as both Klaus and Elijah were not so sure about leaving their home unprotected to those who hunted. No one knew they were what they were, but no one needed to find out either. The best way was to ensure their home was fortified and protected. Their home had taken two years to complete, as they had waited patiently for it to be finished. It wasn't big, but it wasn't small either. It was just right for the both of them._

 _"I believe it is the Queen of France," Elijah responded, his voice holding an almost surprised tone. He turned to face Klaus, an eyebrow slightly cocked. Klaus couldn't help but mirror his elder brother's expression._

 _"The Queen of France?" Klaus joined his brother by the door, watching as a group of guardsmen and a carriage pulled up. The colors of the House of Valois of blue and gold were emblazoned upon small flags, the armors of each guardsmen, and upon the carriage. "Well, I must admit, brother," he turned towards Elijah with a smirk, "she certainly knows how to make an entrance."_

 _Elijah let a loose chuckle escape his lips as Klaus started walking down the stairs into the courtyard. He was to greet the queen as common courtesy and then perhaps get a taste of French royalty. He had yet to taste a French queen, but he had many different ones in previous years. Meaning, he had just about had every land's queen in the past hundred years, except for France. Perhaps he had had a taste a few hundred years ago, but that was too long ago for Klaus to care to try and recollect._

 _Klaus stopped at the foot of his steps, placing his hands cooly behind his back. He had yet to meet the Queen of France. He had yet to even hear of her exploits and plots. No one in England had spoken about her when he was around. No one spoke of her troll-like features, nor her angelic face. No one had spoken of her witchcraft or her satanic possessions. No one ever spoke about her._

 _It was strange for no one to speak of another monarch. Of course one country would at least have whispers of another's failures or accomplishments. If they didn't, that meant there wasn't anything there. It meant the monarch was either plain and useless. Or it meant that the monarch was nonexistent. And from the whispers Klaus had heard about the King of France and his onsetting madness, he wouldn't be surprised if there was no queen at all._

 _Klaus felt his brother approach his side, his blue-green eyes catching movement to his left._

 _"I wonder if there is even a queen in that carriage," Klaus joked slightly, his eyes trained on the carriage as it was beginning to slow and stop._

 _A chuckle came from his left from Elijah. "Brother, I would not be surprised if there were to be no queen," he joked back, his humor surprisingly light on this summer day._

 _Klaus turned towards his brother and cocked an eyebrow. "My, brother, aren't you in a spirited mood."_

 _"Yes, well, I feel I am in a…" Elijah turned towards Klaus, "spirited mood today."_

 _Klaus chuckled and turned towards the now stopped carriage. He calmed his features and stood stock-still. His posture was finely tuned after hundreds of years and it took him only a second to correct it. Kol, his younger brother, needed some help with that though. Klaus rolled his eyes at the thought of Kol. When they next met, Klaus would ensure to fix that nasty habit of slouching._

 _It was then that the carriage door opened and the Queen of France stepped out._

 _Klaus couldn't help but allow his eyes to widen slightly, as he heard Elijah choke back a gasp with a cough._

 _The woman who stepped out of the carriage couldn't have been more than twenty years old. Her hair was a honey-blonde color, a bit lighter than Klaus' own, and pulled into_ _an intricate style that Klaus couldn't really understand. Her skin was fair, maybe a little darker than fair even. She had…blue eyes, yes, deep blue ones that reminded Klaus of the North Sea. A heart-shaped face held her features and were accompanied with a set of slightly pursed lips._

 _She bore her house colors in her dress. The blue of House Valois complimented her features nicely, as far as Klaus could tell. Her neck and shoulders were visible, causing Klaus to lift an eyebrow in question. Most monarchs covered all parts of their bodies. He decided to let it go and analyze the rest of her. Her corset was obviously not done too tightly like most women and again, Klaus was curious. Her bodice showed a little of cleavage but not too much. Her skirts were extensive and showed nothing, probably having a few layers underneath the top blue layer. Her cuffs were a bit flared but nothing too extravagant. Overall, she did not dress like a queen._

 _Klaus then noticed she was approaching them, his hearing picking up her hushed commands in French. His ears heard French, but his mind heard English. He knew French, as he had lived in France…a long time ago. A time when…Aurora was still around. He shook his mind fiercely. He could not think of her._

 _"Your Grace," Elijah spoke from Klaus' left, causing him to be brought to the world in front of him. He watched as Elijah held the queen's hand and brought it chastely to his lips. She looked down as he did so, as if she only noticed him. Klaus watched with interest until Elijah rose up again and bowed lightly._

 _She then moved onto him and Klaus copied his elder brother's actions. "Your Grace," Klaus spoke lowly, bending and kissing the knuckles of the Queen of France. He let his lips linger for a matter of seconds before raising up. His eyes, whilst kissing her hand out of curtesy, had noticed a large ring upon her left hand. It was lapis lazuli if Klaus knew his stones and gems correctly. It held t_ _he House of Valois symbol in it and the craftsmanship was excellent._

 _"My Lords," the queen said, giving a small curtsy. Elijah and Klaus looked over at each other at the same time, slightly confused and surprised. Monarchs were not supposed to bow or curtsy to nobles. It wasn't customary. The queen then turned around and gave a small command for her attendants to stay outside, much to the brothers' surprise_ _again._

 _She turned back and gave a slight head nod. "Apologies, My Lords," she spoke kindly, "the people of my land do not take kindly to those of your own and do not trust me alone with the both of you."_

 _Klaus watched in interest as the queen spoke near perfect English, her words only slightly choppy._

 _"No need for apologies, Your Grace," Elijah waved off her apology. He then outstretched his hand, Klaus mirroring his movements. The two watched as she took both hands and the three of them turned back towards the keep. The queen was to Klaus' right, and to Elijah's left, right in the middle of them. "Apologies allow for distraction-"_

 _"And distractions don't allow for discussion," Klaus finished his brother's sentence. He looked over to the queen, who actually reached his eye-level in height. Klaus was shorter than Elijah, Finn, and Kol, but taller than Rebekah. The queen wasn't far behind him. And the queen had a smirk on her face._

 _"I knew there to be reason I allowed such meeting to occur," she laughed slightly, a grin forming on her face._

 _Klaus smirked then, realizing that this meeting might be interesting._

* * *

Klaus had been right. The queen, Natalia of Lorraine, had been probably the most adept woman and human in the world of politics. There was a reason she had been selected by The Mad King. Whilst he had been starting to become insane, he knew how to pick his women. The queen had outsmarted both Elijah and Klaus and she did it so…collectively. She did it with so much as a smirk on her lips and a glint in her eyes. Then, she left, only to be gone for a few years. Klaus and Elijah had seen her again, once more in fact. She had a celebration for her day of birth, something she had invited both of the originals to.

Klaus had noticed that she had grown a bit of more color in her pallor and was seemingly more excited. Whilst she had been excitable when they first met, she seemed even more so at her birthday celebration. She drank fine drinks and laughed easily. She strayed from her husband, who only sat on his designated chair at the feasting table. He was a whole twelve years older than his young wife, something that was growing uncommon. Most kings had become a little closer in age with their queens as the centuries passed due to the need for heirs.

Klaus remembered the way King Henry VI, The Mad King, had looked at his young wife. He had recently turned thirty-seven, Natalia having just turned twenty-five. He remembered the way the king's dark eyes glinted with hunger and lust as he glared at his wife. Those emotions would be swept away once she talked to someone, and would be replaced with accusation and jealousy. It had made Klaus curious. He had wondered to this day what kind of relationship the two had held and still did.

The most he remembered though were the burning stares that Klaus had received from those dark orbs of the king. The ones that held anger, jealousy, rage, and even more accusations.

Klaus sighed lightly. He would never admit it, but deep down, those stares from that night just under four years ago haunted him.

"Niklaus!" Elijah's voice snapped Klaus from his state of remembrance. He turned to face his brother, who was currently annoyed. "Have you even been listening at all, brother?"

"Yes, yes," Klaus rolled his eyes, waving his hand in a 'continue' motion. "Something about your whining how we must stay here." Klaus turned back on his stool and looked back at his painted canvas. He had been painting for a few weeks now and finally he had been hit with creativity once again and he grabbed his oils.

He then decided to speak as he arranged his oils accordingly. "I don't see why we must stay here, brother," he said, taking a quick look at his fine-tipped brush. Noticing a slight difference in hair-lengths, he quickly bit off the longer ends to find an equilibrium. Looking back at the brush, he smirked in acceptance. "I mean, truly, brother, there is nothing here for us. There is greater chance for us wherever our siblings are. We may keep them in line whilst we explore some more."

Klaus then dipped the brush lightly in the honey-yellow oil, taking the brush to do light strokes. "But, brother, you know as well as I do that there is something here," Elijah still tried to plead his case. It caused Klaus to sigh in exasperation and pinch the bridge of his nose. Sometimes he felt like the elder sibling.

"If to only cease your incessant begging," Klaus resigned. He then turned from his canvas and pointed his brush at Elijah, a final look on his face. "But if there is nothing by this time next year, we leave after the queen's celebration."

Elijah rose an eyebrow. "You're still thinking she'll invite us again? She hasn't invited us in four years, Niklaus. I don't believe her husband took very kindly to us."

"How would you know?" Klaus asked, turning back to his painting.

"You were not the only one who noticed his dark looks, little brother," Elijah said, his voice stern. "There is a reason I have my little birds listening to everything in France."

Klaus rolled his eyes, "There is nothing to fear Elijah. I don't even understand why you must have your little pets there."

"Because that woman knows more about this world than any vampire or human I have ever met. She is too talented to be corrupted," he said, a sense of defiance in his voice.

"Brother, we have seen her how many times? Two meetings of extended talks is not worth the alliance you seem bent on."

"She stayed with us for two fortnights, brother. We then stayed in France and helped advise for three months of the year," Elijah pointed out.

"Elijah, that does not constitute as knowing someone."

"Then why paint her a portrait?"

Klaus stopped his brush strokes and sighed, looking at his work-in-progress. It was an oil on canvas portrait of the Queen of France herself. She had told him at his celebration how she refused to let anyone paint her. Klaus then convinced her that for her thirtieth birthday, he would paint her a picture and if she liked it she could hang it in the great hall of her castle. If she didn't like it, she could burn it on a pyre with Niklaus tied to it (as a joke of course).

"I promised her one for her thirtieth birthday celebration," Klaus said, waving his brother's question off.

Elijah sounded unconvinced. "Niklaus, the queen does not reach her thirtieth birthday until November of next year. She has yet to turn twenty-nine."

"Just…preparing for the future."

"Brother-"

Klaus' elder brother was cut off by a groan of pain. One that came from neither of them. Klaus looked over at Elijah and the two brothers connected eyes for only a second before both were at the window. Vampires had heightened senses and could smell blood from a ways away. And both of the original brothers could smell blood.

Klaus squinted his eyes, as the sun had fallen a little earlier in the day, causing the sky to be nearly pitch black. The stars and moon were out in full blast, but it was still like an inky blackness outside. Finally though, Klaus caught movement a few yards away from the entrance of their home. A body was limp in the courtyard, a cloak over their body.

Klaus, having not fed since the day before, was having a little bit of an issue controlling his natural face. The blood was human and extremely tantalizing. So much so that he had to force his face back to normal…painfully.

"Brother," Elijah said, resting a hand on Klaus' shoulder, "I can check if you do not feel well."

Klaus threw Elijah's hand off of his shoulder and shook him off. "I am fine, brother. Let us both check," he said simply without emotion.

He heard Elijah sigh but then nod in understanding. The two of them opened the front door and walked out into the night, their boots causing the gravel to shift. The two brothers, as they came closer and closer to the body, could pick up the sound of labored breathing and the sound of someone in immense pain. Klaus could also hear the beating of a heart grow faint, as if each step the two took equalled one less beat of the heart for the victim.

Klaus reached the body first and saw that it was a woman. He could pick out the extensive skirts she had in the moonlight, all nearly hidden under a pale blue cloak. What Klaus noticed first though was the amount of blood soaking through the cloak and onto the ground. He could hear each droplet as it pattered onto the gravel that was no longer shifting under the body. His fangs were pushing and pulling to extend but he gave them no satisfaction. He was not even satisfied hunger-wise if the victim didn't struggle a little.

Klaus grew curious and knelt down, his forearm resting on a knee. He used one hand to pull back the hood of the cloak, curious to see who had found their location. Only other nobles and monarchs knew of this location. The common folk did not. His hand grasped the hood and pulled it back gently, hoping it was not someone he recognized.

But he wished he had not pulled that damned hood back. Underneath it laid matted honey-blonde waves that had seemed to be pulled at. _Perhaps it is some girl with the same hair_ , he thought to himself, silently hoping and wishing it was not the woman he and Elijah had grown to know. He then pushed the hair aside, noticing the woman was lying on her side a little. The hair felt stuck to something and Klaus felt the blood soaking through. He cringed lightly as the hair fell away from the woman's face and revealed her identity and horrifying wound.

A chunk of her neck seemed to have been torn off and all over, bite marks of varying sizes were laid haphazardly. Multiple people had taken part in this. Blood was flowing quite generously. Klaus then chanced a look at the woman's face and wanted to gag. The queen who had somehow befriended Niklaus and Elijah Mikaelson, now lay on the ground, nearly dead.

Klaus had to breathe in deeply from the side, a strangled gasp in him. But it was only due to surprise.

"Brother?"

Klaus didn't even look over at his elder brother as he squatted down next to him. "It's her," Klaus only spoke those two words, knowing it was all he needed to get across. He wasn't speaking in a heartbroken manner like he was losing a lover. Nor did he speak like he was losing a sibling. He was speaking like he was only confirming a third-party victim's identity.

"Brother, her heart, it is growing faint with each word we speak," Elijah said calmly, placing a hand on the shoulder of his brother and the dying woman.

Klaus, with no expression on his face, pulled the woman up a little. Her body was deadweight pretty much. Klaus bit into his wrist and shoved it into the queen's mouth, his eyes blind to his own blood that dribbled from the overflow in her undrinking mouth. He tilted her head back and continued to be unmoving as the blood finally trickled down her throat.

Finally, her heart growing fainter and fainter with each passing second, Klaus stopped. She had had enough blood.

And with that, he pulled his wrist from her mouth and placed both hands on the sides of her head. He waited a few seconds, looking at the bloodied face of Queen Natalia of Lorraine, until he made his choice.

Niklaus Mikaelson killed the Queen of France.


	3. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thank you to everyone for the support! I love all of you and hope you enjoy this chapter. Warning, I'm tired and school is almost over forever for me. Apologies for the crappiness of this chapter._

 _ **BeaAdriana** : Thanks hun! I'm glad you're enjoying it and hope you won't be too disappointed by this chapter._

 _Disclaimer: I don't own TVD or TO. I wish I did, but I don't. I only own Queen Natalia of Lorraine so far._

* * *

 **Chapter 2** **  
**

* * *

 **5th April, 1409; Unknown, small village in England**

Klaus sat calmly, the dorsal side of his hand holding up his head. He had been waiting nearly half a day for the queen to wake from her slumber of death and resurrection. He thought it strange that she was taking so long to awaken but perhaps he had not been quick enough. Perhaps he had actually hastened her death instead of her resurrection and ensuring her survival. Perhaps he had made a fool's choice in saving her.

"You have yet to inform me, brother, as to why you saved the queen," Elijah spoke calmly, his voice and tone even. Klaus had seen his brother's eyes though when he picked the queen up. The browns of his eyes showed sadness and appreciation at the same time. For what reason? Klaus could only give pitiful guesses.

Klaus gave a sigh, "It was just as you said brother." He was going to use his brother's words against him. Klaus did not know if his brother was accusing him of something or not. But he wasn't taking any chances. "Because that woman knows more about this world than any vampire or human I have ever met. She is too talented to be corrupted. So, I have simply saved her…hopefully."

Elijah only nodded his head and crossed his hands behind his back. What he was thinking was a mystery to Klaus.

"Come now, Elijah, what is on your mind," Klaus ushered, hoping his elder brother would speak his thoughts.

"Well, I can not simply grasp who in the entire world would want a queen, the Queen of France at that, dead. She seemed to be loved quite intensely in France; in England, she was held highly in everyone's regards to my knowledge. It's simply not…understandable, Nik," Elijah said, gesticulating with his hands now.

Klaus couldn't help but agree with his brother. "Agreed, dear brother. But, I do understand that whomever wanted her dead was certainly vampire. No human would bite a woman's neck," he said, only voicing what both knew.

"The question is: who?"

Klaus knew how the slaves to the sun would hunt at night. Most vampires did not have daylight rings. In fact, only a select few carried them on their persons. Luckily, Klaus and his siblings did not require that piece of jewelry. They only had one weakness: the wood and ash of the white oak tree. But, due to a normal vampire's inability to walk in the sun, individuals would crowd into groups and hunt loners in the dark alleys at night. They would feed together and would leave their victims mutilated.

A lone woman at night was sure to be target, and the queen had been a prime one.

"A group of inexperienced newborns, that is who, Elijah," Klaus said with distaste.

"Well, I would not say inexperienced," Elijah spoke, slightly pinching his nose. "More so…" he searched for a word, "more so, famished.

"Her wounds were precise, albeit haphazardly placed, and clean, up until her large gash. Then, that was it. No bruising or clumsy slips in the markings. The ones who attacked her were very, very hungry, brother," Elijah finished, looking down at the still body of the queen.

A large, red blanket lay over her still body. Her hair was pulled away from her face and fanned lightly on the series of pillows. Her eyes were shut and her face was pale. She didn't breathe, nor could Klaus hear a heartbeat. Her chest did not move up and down with each breath she should have taken. Her eyelids did not flutter as she woke. Nothing had happened for the past half-day. Nothing was happening now.

"Did it not work, brother?" Klaus asked, cocking his head slightly to the side.

"Well, we did catch her late and her heart was already fainter than the wings flapping of a butterfly."

"No need to be poetic, Elijah," Klaus snapped lightly, rolling his eyes at his elder brother's words.

Elijah chuckled a little, much to Klaus' annoyance. He shot a look towards his older brother, one that spoke of ill tidings should the brunette man continue. Elijah just laughed a little more, lightly of course. Klaus found that while his brother was a serious man, he was also one of good humor. His brother knew how to lay a few good words of humor out every once in a while. But ever since Klaus had…nearly fully lost his humanity a little under half a century ago, Elijah had cut back on the joke telling.

Klaus gave a glare before looking back at the body of the woman he thought he had saved. It was rare, of course, for Klaus to save someone that could have provided a substantial enough meal. But, he knew that Elijah would have been disappointed. An emotion, that Klaus was supposedly "indifferent" to, that turned Klaus' insides uncomfortable. Elijah was his elder brother and no matter the blood in them or the animosity at the moment, Klaus still couldn't stand the look of disappointment in his brother's eyes. He had seen it one too many times in his lifetime.

Klaus was about to say something to his brother. Something concerning an important matter that the two brothers would need to attend to urgently. But a stirring in the bed caught Klaus' attention.

The matter could wait another day or two.

* * *

 _N_ _atalia could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the grass beneath her toes and the soles of her feet. Her blue eyes traveled down to see herself not wearing shoes. Strange, why would she run outside without at least her slippers on? It then occurred to her that her heart was pounding from more than just physical exertion. She felt the unknown terror in her heart. She could feel everything as she ran, and she wasn't sure why._

 _Suddenly, her legs picked up their already quick pace. She could feel the copious amounts of blood in her body suddenly speed through her veins. She could feel as the air filled and left her lungs. She could feel every droplet of…rain? Now there was rain?_

 _Spinning her head around to get a grip of where she was, Natalia noticed trees. How had she not noticed this before? How had she even gotten to this dark, damp, and desolate place? She didn't remember ever going out for a run, she would remember if she did. Philipe would always lend her a pair of trousers and one of his under shirts. They would always be big on Natalia, due to her frame being smaller than the massive Captain of the Guard. She was in a dress though, something she knew to not be normal._

 _Why would she run in a dark forest in only a dress and no slippers on? It didn't seem practical. She didn't even understand why such terror was gripping her heart and unconsciously causing her to run even faster. She didn't know where she was, but she could only guess that it was the forest to the east of the castle. She had never run in it before. Never taken Ami, her bay stallion whose name meant 'friend' in French, in these woods. She had never been to the east side of the castle in fact. Charles always told her to stray away._

 _But if she always listened to her husband, why was she disobeying now? Of course, there were a few commands she would disobey, but never anything big. Just small ones such as: "No speaking with any outside the family.", or "No leaving my sight at feasts.", or "Always listen to me, my sweet."._

 _And whilst she had failed to listen to those commands, she had heeded to his threatening ones._

 _And one was to never approach the east forest._

 _"Come here, my sweet," a chilling voice rang out in the dark forest. A voice that Natalia knew well. It was the horrific voice of her husband, Charles. He was considered mad, and Natalia was the one to tell everyone of that. She remembered being in court with her lady-friends and spreading the gossip around quite easily. And oh did those words come to life._

 _Charles had only called her 'my sweet'. He had never called her anything else. He never called her by her name. Never a little shortening of her name neither. Only 'my sweet'. The people of France called her 'La beauté de l'Est'. It meant, 'The Beauty of the East'. Everyone in her kingdom knew her origin story. Everyone but the ones who apparently cared._

Philipe cared _, she thought to herself fondly.  
_  
 _But the smile which had grown on her face suddenly vanished as she realize what had happened to the Captain of the Guard. His head was set on a pike for all to see. And it was all because of her. It was all her fault and now a good man was dead. And he wasn't just dead. He was humiliated still in death for his crime. His crime? Loving Natalia. Loving one that could not be loved. And it was all Natalia's fault._

 _Suddenly, her conscious thought pulled her away from her memories and to the present situation. Charles was after her it seemed and she was running. But, her legs…they were tiring._

 _Confusion drifted through her. Why was she tiring? Had she not yet left the grounds? She had thought she had fled by now. She remembered living in Italy during the winter after leaving France in the spring. So why was it spring time again? Had that all been a dream and now she was running for sure? If so, why couldn't she remember events of that day._

 _"You, my sweet, and your precious son are not safe. Know that, my love," Charles voice rang out. His words caused icy terror to paralyze Natalia._

 _"Olyvar?" she whispered quietly. Her son was for sure living with someone random now. She wasn't even carrying him with her! She would never leave without her dear son. So where was he?_

 _A child's cry of distress cause Natalia to snap her head in every direction. A quiet chant of her son's name escaped her lips, each time the ring getting louder and louder. "Olyvar! Olyvar!" she cried, her hair twisting wildly around her as she whipped in every direction. The cries of distress and pain from her son made her resolve break slowly._

" _Olyvar, my dear!" she cried loudly, a warmth threatening the backs of her eyes. Warning. Reminding. How could she be so foolish?_

 _A chuckle came from behind her, eliciting an almost immediate reaction from the fallen Queen of France._

 _"Oh, my sweet," Charles' voice spoke with a taunting tone. Natalia's blue eyes narrowed_ _on the man's face, finding no signs of impending mercy. No signs of the ability to feel. In her husband's arms lay a bundle with a cloth wrapped around it. A cry escaped it. It was her son. Olyvar, the illegitimate son of Queen Natalia. "You truly were never cut out for motherhood."_

 _And suddenly, before Natalia could react, Charles drove a knife down. It had come from nowhere visible to Natalia. And as it neared her son, Natalia watched in blatant horror, unable to-_

Natalia shocked straight up, her chest heaving and causing the air in her body to come out in heavy pants. Her heart beat violently in her-

Her heart felt different.

She knew how her heart used to be. It had been weaker. No matter what, her heart would never beat violently after being frightened or scared. It would never pound against her chest after she went for an exhilarating run atop Ami. It was never this powerful.

A hand, her own, placed itself lightly upon her chest, right over the beating mechanism. She could feel the rhythmic beating of it loud and clear. She could feel the vital liquid of life being pushed through it. It- it was exhilarating.

And then…the memories came rushing back.

She had left Italy for England. She had fled for months on end, only knowing a pair of brothers who could possibly help her. She had fought tooth and nail to live through those moons, never knowing if she'd wake after those close-calls. She had reached England, headed for Wessex.

Night time, alone. All alone in the dark streets of a village. No one else out. Memorized path to their home. Through forest. Loud snaps of twigs. Constant wariness and clammy palms. Wide eyes and agape lips. Red eyes and bulging veins. Five pairs. Ten total eyes. All trained on her. Running, lots of running. Eyes find destination, not too far. Trip over root of knotted tree. Bites. Pain. Searing, god-awful pain. Screams. Blood. Metallic scent and taste. Worst pain ever imaginable. Weakness. No more weight. Crawling, lots of crawling. Scrapping against grass. Inability to breathe. Rocks sifting under weight. Groans. Defeat. Voices. Body lifted, yet eyes closed. Liquid and sweet liquid at that. Cool hands. **Darkness**.

Natalia's ocean-blue eyes widened as the memories poured through. There had been so much pain in so little time. Those…creatures who had attacked her…what were they? Who were they? She didn't remember their faces. Only fragments of red eyes and wicked grins.

Her hands reached up to her neck, feeling around for the marks she had surely received after miraculously surviving. Only…bumps laid on her skin. She swore her neck had been bitten of at one point. Hadn't it been? The top male, the biggest one, he had words about it. Laughing and mocking words. So, why was there flesh there? Her flesh felt…soft, albeit a little dry due to not washing her body in days. Why couldn't she feel the injuries she had felt in memory?

"We barely saved your neck," a smooth voice languidly spoke. "Quite a bit of flesh missing, but we saved it somehow," the same voice spoke again, this time as if incredulous.

Natalia jolted at the sound of a male's voice, fearing for the worst. But her fears were misplaced. There, standing at the foot of the bed Natalia currently was occupying, was Lord Niklaus. To his right and her left, only a few steps away, was his older brother and her friend, Lord Elijah. The two looked no different than last she saw them around four years ago at her birthday celebration.

"L-Lord Niklaus," she slight tripped over her words, unable to quite grasp the situation. "Lord E-Elijah," she said, her tone breathless. How had she ended up in a most comfortable bed and without injury which she thought she attained? It was very confusing. "What is happening?"

The youngest lord simply chuckled, as if amused by her inability to understand.

"Why, my queen, welcome back to the living."


	4. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I don't own TVD or TO blah blah blah. Y'all know what I own and don't._

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

* * *

 **5th April, 1409; Unknown, small village in England**

Natalia looked up at the blonde man, disbelief flooding her ocean blue eyes. "Pardon?" she said, her breath nearly taken away from her. Back to the living? She had never died! If she had, she wouldn't be breathing or staring in shock at the male Lord. How would it even be possible for her to come back to life? That was something of mythos and lore. Stories her mother told her and Svetlana as children. "Back to the living?"

"I do believe my wording was clear," Natalia saw Lord Niklaus say, "was it not brother?" the blonde man turned to his elder brother, giving a mock questioning look.

Elijah only rolled his eyes, making Natalia feel a little less…overwhelmed with the idea. "Klaus," Elijah spoke warningly, as if already annoyed and displeased.

Natalia wasn't really sure what to think of the situation anymore. Klaus was acting the way he had when he had spent time with her, allowing Natalia to get used to his sarcasm and usually…unkind wordings. But there were times when he was actually quite civil and…kind of nice. Not really nice, but not being rude like he usually was. It always made Natalia wonder why he was so bitter, it seemed. Elijah was kind and an utmost gentleman. The opposite of his younger brother.

"Pardon, brother," Klaus apologized mockingly, a smirk curling at his lips. It made Natalia's skin crawl. There was a dark, malicious intent behind that smirk and in those eyes. It was terrifying to Natalia. "Is that a fast heartbeat I hear?" Klaus questioned, placing a hand behind his ear. He could definitely hear her newfound terror.

"Klaus," Elijah started, a look upon his face that said there was no room for his antics. Elijah then sighed and gave a motion of his head, "Klaus, brother, please go get something to eat before your mood clouds your better judgement."

Silence.

There was only silence for as long as Natalia could tell. It was stiff, like someone was grasping your whole body in a tight lock. It was tense, like one's muscles before sparing. It was deadly, like the murderous glare in Lord Niklaus' eyes in that moment. All three things made Natalia very uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable.

The tense, pregnant silence was held until Klaus gave his brother one last glare. He then proceeded to exit the room, slamming the wooden door like a child behind him. Natalia slightly jumped at the sound and her knuckles turned white as they grasped the royal-red blanket that covered her body. It wasn't a grasp actually. It was a hold that warranted no escape for the poor blanket.

"Apologies, my queen," Elijah sighed, turning to face Natalia once again. His warm-brown eyes gave a comforting look that eased Natalia's grip slightly. "Niklaus has been…especially irritable lately," Elijah explained lightly, his words causing Natalia to raise an eyebrow.

"Due to his hunger?" she questioned, a look of suspicion in her eyes.

Elijah caught the untrusting look and sent his gaze around the room. It caused Natalia to gain slight confidence. She had known in her life that she was capable of making even the most composed of men, jittery. It was an ability she had inherited from her mother, her sister having inherited another. There were things that Natalia knew of the world that most people had no knowledge of. And she had just learned another fact that the shadows of the night kept secret. Lord Elijah had just been her confirmation.

Lord Niklaus was irritable when hungry. A hunger that made both of the brothers seem to grow still, as if they tried to avoid the topic. Lord Niklaus said she was back in the "land of the living", when she had sworn that last night was her last. She remembered the pain in her neck, yet no pain was found now. No marks except for indentations in a weird circular pattern on her neck, as if that chunk had been ripped out then put back in. The hungry eyes. The lines trailing to their abysses of maliciousness.

One word: Revenants.

Revenants were creatures that Natalia's mother had warned her of. Creatures that returned from the death they had been given, and terrorized the villages they were buried in. Natalia knew of these creatures and knew to carry her cross with her at all times. Her mother said it would ward off the evil spirits that seemed to plague their village when Natalia was a child. But she had stopped wearing her cross long ago, and now, Natalia wished she had never lost faith.

"You and your brother," Natalia began, fear starting to creep into her body, "you two are Revenants, no?" she questioned, her stomach making flips of unease. "The people who tried to kill me were just like you, no?" she asked, knowing the answer to each of her questions.

Natalia's mother and younger sister…they were gifted. They could do interesting and spectacular things with their minds and hands. They could make objects float and could make weird objects that apparently protected people from strange occurrences. They also had grimoires, both of them did. Natalia had read through her mother's once and found weird wordings on the pages that were not of their native tongue back in the cold east. Natalia had been jealous of her mother's and sister's talents but now wished that she could have those talents more than ever.

"My mama warned me about people like you, Lord Elijah," Natalia said, a tone of accusation in her voice. It seemed that fear and nerves made her native accent come in thickly. It was not French, that was for sure. It was laced with something that was distinctly Eastern European. But where in Eastern Europe? Perhaps the hint was the word 'mama', which is the Russian word for mother. Russia, that was where she was from. A place that held firm beliefs in witchcraft and demons and spirits.

"Do not think your brother and you vill be able to convince me of innocence," she hissed out, her eyes narrowing on the tall, brunette man. He was a demon and Natalia felt deep regret for ever allowing their meeting from years ago to occur. "For mama told me of your schemes and I vill not fall for zem," her accent seemed to thicken with each sentence she spoke.

"Then, my queen, it seems you will be sorely disappointed with what my brother and I have to inform you of," Elijah sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn't even deny Natalia's accusations which made her sizzle with rage. It was human to deny! He had to deny! He needed to or else Natalia would know this was all not a dream she wished to wake from.

"Vhich is?" she asked, a look of uncertainty in her eyes.

The door to the room suddenly slammed open and Lord Niklaus strode in, red liquid dripping from his lips and a crazed look in his eyes. His eyes…they were no longer a blue-green. They were dark and red, dark lines trailing up to his orbs. A smirk was curled on his lips, pointed teeth in his mouth. Blood was on his face. Human blood.

How did Natalia know? Well, in Klaus' hand, a limp body hung. It was a man, his pallor pale and stained with the red life force of his body. Natalia's eyes widened in horror and she reached up to her mouth, trying to stop herself from losing her stomach. The man's breathing was shallow and barely audible. His dark locks of hair, which reached his shoulders much like the brothers, were matted and torn at due to a struggle. His neck held only one wound but blood surrounded it. Two dots that allowed blood through were found at the base of his neck by his shoulder. His clothes were those of a peasant, not surprising due to the small village a walk away.

But the scary thing to Natalia was not due to his state of near-death. It was the oh-so tantalizing sweet smell that seemed to emit from the man. Was it some weird herb or plant that he may have dealt with as a medicine man? Was it maybe his way of warding off evil spirits? A sweet smell to humans but wretched stench to demons? That wasn't true, as the Revenants brothers before her were obviously just as attracted to the smell as Natalia. What was that entrancing smell?

Lord Niklaus seemed to notice Natalia's enthralled look and his smirk only widened. "You can smell it, can't you? The sweet smell that appeals to you and I? You crave the same thing as my brother and I do, don't you? You feel the lust for it starting to form. You feel the pain in your mouth as your features change. You feel the want and you crave that want. You feel that freedom that beckons you so," the lord said, each word dripping with knowledge of Natalia's current wants. With each statement, Natalia noticed how he grew closer to her form. But she paid no mind to it. She only paid attention to the limp body Lord Niklaus was carrying. The smell was definitely from him.

"Don't deny those wants and cravings, my queen." Klaus said, pulling the body up to lie across Natalia's lap. He didn't fully drop the body upon her covered lap, but he didn't fully support it either. Natalia could only stare at the body, the pain he had spoken of growing prominent. Like something was growing in her mouth. Like teeth were pushing in. And not normal teeth, but…fangs. Natalia could feel the want growing in her body as she stared with an intensity.

"Give in," Klaus said, whispering with a dark intent into Natalia's ear.

It was all she needed for her to lose control. For her to not heed her mama's warnings. For her to let loose all of the suspicion and mistrust she held. For her to forget who she was and what she had been raised on. The sweet scent was too appealing. Too…entrancing.

And god, was that liquid amazing. It was…invigorating. She had dove for the junction of the shoulder and neck, her teeth sinking into the flesh of the weakened man. He was so weak that not even a grunt of pain came from his lips. The experience of the liquid flowing from the puncture wounds in his neck and into Natalia's mouth was like a dream. It wasn't like a man who was without water in a desert for a week. It was like a man without water for a whole life time in hell and he had finally found some. It was so empowering. And Natalia found that the sweet taste would not let her part from the neck of the man. She was going to drink him dry, and she didn't care. The blood was too sustaining, too grand.

And as she drank the man dry, his skin withering as his body was left without liquid, Klaus watched with an evil smirk as if he had just accomplished the grandest task known to mankind. Elijah only watching with disappointment in his eyes, knowing what blood did to people.

It corrupted.


	5. Chapter 4

_A/N: Bit of a time skip, as then memories can be revealed throughout the story. Would love to know what y'all are thinking! ❤ But I'm appreciating all of the support so far!_

 _Disclaimer: I don't own TVD or TO. If I did, well lets just say that Elena wouldn't have lasted as long (sorry to the Elena lovers)_

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

* * *

28th October, 1422; Saint-Denis region of Paris, France

Elijah couldn't believe Klaus had convinced Natalia to join them. It was their duty to go, but Natalia was at no obligation. She shouldn't have gone either. She shouldn't have joined them. Elijah knew something bad would happen. He knew that a ripper would not be a good person to bring to a very public ceremony. And the fact that that ripper was connected to the person of interest of the ceremony was surely not a good combination. Bringing Natalia Resnikova to the funeral ceremony of King Charles VI was not a good idea whatsoever.

Elijah had tried to urge Klaus from convincing Natalia to join them. But he knew that once the two of them had set their mind on something, they would follow it through. That's what happened when you were in charge of two vampires without humanity. They didn't listen to you, only their bloodlust.

Natalia had been without her humanity since she was turned. Once she got her fangs into that man's throat thirteen years prior, she seemed to be unable to stop. Elijah would come back to the keep and find people of random places strewn across the floor. Even other vampires would be sucked dry. They wouldn't just be completely dry, but they would be missing limbs and would have disfigured appearances. It had gotten so bad that Elijah had had to take away Natalia's daylight ring (which he and Klaus had used a few favors to use Natalia's old House of Valois ring as her pendant). He had even staked Natalia in the gut more than a few times, one time staking her to the wall. She had grown insane.

Natalia's bloodlust did not help Klaus either. Elijah had seen his brother rise and fall multiple times. But none like this. He had nearly turned off his emotions in the mid-14th century. But this time? Elijah didn't even know the man who he called 'brother'. It was like he was a whole different man. He no longer cared. He killed who he wished, when he wished. Elijah had had to cover up the deaths of kings and queens by passing them off as assassinations and using compulsion. But he knew the history books would not pass off the strange mass murders. They would look for hints.

They would find none from Natalia and Klaus.

Elijah looked over to Natalia, his eyes studying the woman's features. She had not aged. Her beauty had not left her. But instead of a new life filling her body, like Elijah had hoped, a newfound darkness and corruption had taken over. The very things he was trying to avoid. He convinced Niklaus to save her for the reason of keeping a good person alive, one who deserved to stay alive. But now, Elijah was not sure that Natalia should have been saved. The darkness in her must have been always in her.

"You are staring at me," she said, her voice without emotion. She had not even turned her head to face Elijah, her dark eyes locked on the point of interest in the basilica.

"That I am," Elijah replied, his eyes trailing from her face to the body of the dead king that lay with stones over his eyes and a sword between his hands.

"I don't appreciate that, Lord Elijah," Natalia spoke, her voice still not conveying her thoughts. "Niklaus does the same thing to vex me," she said, cocking her head to the side lightly. Yet she still did not face him.

Elijah raised an eyebrow, "Does he now?" He did not think Klaus being capable of a humorous vex at this point in time.

"That is what I said, was it not?" Natalia questioned, a slight bit of annoyance in her voice.

"You are correct. My apologies, Natalia," Elijah said, not wishing for the woman to cause a scene. He knew that if the fallen queen had been annoyed too much, she would grow mad in the head. He could not afford a very large scene.

"Hmm," she mused, as if glad the short conversation was final.

"Though I do wonder-"

"Good eve, love," Elijah was cut off by his younger brother, who had pushed a bit rudely to sit by Natalia in the pews. She stood in the middle, her white dress of mourning not standing out between the three of them. All were wearing white of some form, for it was the color of death.

Elijah looked over to his brother, whose blond, shoulder-length hair looked a bit tousled. A drop of blood stood out vividly on his lip and Klaus didn't seem to care. The older original had to roll his eyes at his brother. He had probably enjoyed having a little tussle with his latest victim, or victims. The way his blue-green eyes glinted told Elijah as much.

"Niklaus," was all Natalia replied, her eyes still set on the dead king. Her eyes had yet to move from their spot in what seemed like hours. Those orbs of growing darkness had been attached to the body since the trio walked into the basilica. "I assume you have gorged yourself to sate your hunger for the next few hours?"

"Of course, love," Klaus replied, Elijah not having to turn to see the smirk on his face. His voice spoke all.

"Good," she replied, "wouldn't want Elijah to cover up another deed of your fault."

"Pardon?" Klaus said, his voice holding mock offense. "I do believe, my dear, that you are indeed the one who slaughtered that village. Am I wrong?"

"Aye, though only after you killed the king and queen of England and their banquet guests," Natalia gave a jab back, Elijah feeling the tension in her voice. The air was getting a little too stiff for his liking.

He reached a hand up and slightly adjusted his chin-high collar, trying to ease the pressure.

"Oh, love-"

"Touch me again and your hand comes off," a deadly tone entered Natalia's usually stoic voice. Elijah could only imagine his brother had become touchy again, as Klaus usually was. Or well he was with certain women.

"Forgive me, love," Klaus said, probably backing off.

It was one thing that had developed through Natalia's and Klaus'…friendship (if that's what one could call it). Klaus had learnt how to back off in a way. Natalia could put Elijah's brother in his place with a simple sentence or glare. It started about two years ago and Elijah knew that it was the one thing he couldn't be more thankful for.

The trio was silent again, listening to the words of Latin being sung into the air, the sacred melodies flowing beautifully. Elijah had found that music, no matter how new it had become, was something that appealed to Natalia. He would watch as she tried to learn how to understand each piece. She was as in love with it as Klaus was in love with painting. Of course, Natalia never sang anything she memorized, as she claimed (and had proven) how her voice was not fit for singing. Elijah had annoyed her to the point of giving in and it was only for her to be rid of his presence that she sung. And Elijah was sadly glad that he would never hear her singing voice again.

"When will this god-forsaken event be over?" Natalia muttered harshly, her body as stiff as the pews they were just beginning to sit down on. "The man doesn't deserve my presence, dead or alive."

"He was your husband, Natalia," Elijah tried to speak carefully. "The least you can do is bear through this sermon and then we may leave."

"The least I can do is get up and leave right now," she spat venomously.

Elijah still did not know the full extent of Natalia's and the late king's relationship. He had heard stories and rumors over the past thirteen years, and his little birds had stopped informing of things mysteriously. Elijah could only guess that they had been discovered and executed. It was a shame, as Elijah had learned next to nothing of the king's and previous queen's relationship.

Elijah was about to speak, as he needed to calm Natalia. He knew she would get riled up and nasty when questioned beyond want.

But the priest spoke before he could.

"And The Lord looks down upon this man and commands he rest now, for he has done his part," the priest spoke, his French resonating throughout the basilica. Elijah thought it a beautiful and well-crafted start to a sermon. "He commands this man to lay his head down and to soften his brow, for the day has ended and it is time to rest.

"But, it is time for another to rest as well," the priest spoke, his eyes not pointed towards the highest arch in the ceiling. His eyes were now pointed towards the crowd, as if they were…searching for someone. And now, they had found their target. The priest's hazel eyes now rested on Natalia, a tense feeling developing in the air. Elijah suddenly stiffened. "For a woman has _sinned_ our king. A woman has spoken with the _devil_! A woman has _betrayed_ us all and claims innocence!"

Elijah did not like where this was going, and he knew that the words were pointed towards the stiff woman to his right.

"She claims to have _no_ use of witchcraft!" the priest cried, pointing a wrinkled finger towards Natalia. "She claims to be a woman _free_ of sin!"

All eyes turned towards Natalia, her knuckles turning white.

"She claims that the devil has _not_ visited her in life!"

Whispers start to spread throughout the crowd.

"She claims that she never laid with _another_ man!"

Now, Elijah cocks an eyebrow, the voices in the room growing.

"She claims that she _never_ dreamt of Hell!"

Blood hit the air.

"She claims _she_ was the Queen of France!"

Hellfire broke loose in the basilica. Elijah watched as Natalia darted away, her eyes showing only one emotion. Pure, unadulterated terror lit her blue eyes like a fire against the night. Elijah turned to his brother, surprised to see a sign of emotion flitting through his sea blue orbs. Everything had turned.

Both Elijah and Niklaus had followed the trail of strewn bodies, either their necks snapped or their bodies tossed haphazardly. Strangely, not a single one had a bite to their neck. But Elijah knew that they had to find Natalia quicker than the people of Saint Denis. They didn't have time to inspect every body carefully. Though, they knew most of them were corpses by then so it didn't matter.

As the brothers bursted through the wooden doors and out into the cold night, they were faced with a magnificent sight. A truly, terrifying, yet magnificent sight. It seemed the whole of Saint Denis was mobbing. They held torches, their angered faces enlightened by the violent lights of fire. Some had swords, some had weird farming tools, and some had…stakes. There were people who were holding wooden stakes. The number one weakness for a progeny with a daylight ring.

Elijah saw Natalia crouching only a few feet in front of them, her body stilled and tense. Her hands were splayed on the stone ground, sores on the dorsal sides of her appendages. Her white dress was torn at lightly, as if only a few people had gotten to her, her managing to fend them off. Her blonde hair which had been done into her signature braid that trailed down her back, was now distraught looking. Strands fell around her face, framing it. To Elijah, Klaus and he had been right behind Natalia. But obviously, they had not been.

"Whore!"

"Witch!"

"Traitor!"

"Thief!"

The vulgar terms were thrown around like they meant nothing more. It was as if the common folk used the words daily, something Elijah knew to be not true.

He looked over to his left to see Klaus gone, already by Natalia's side. His younger brother was kneeling on the stone street, his right hand placed on Natalia's heaving back. His head was tilted down as if trying to hear Natalia say something. And Elijah saw it in Klaus' eyes. He saw that switch in his head be flipped again. He saw the things he thought he'd never see again flood back into his younger brother's eyes. He saw his brother display one emotion, that for once, Elijah was elated to see: anger.

Klaus stood from his spot next to Natalia and the two brothers' eyes connected. They knew what they had to do.

Kill _everyone_.

There were times in life where Elijah was proud of his abilities. There were times where he was lightly ashamed and wished he could go back to the New World and be with his family once again. He sometimes wished that he had lived a normal, full life. But tonight? Tonight he was exacting revenge on the people who dared hurt Natalia.

She had become family. And _no one_ touched the Original family.

As Elijah grabbed person after person from the crowd, he thought calmly to himself. When had Natalia become family? It surely had not been something spontaneous that the two brothers realized. Perhaps the realization was as such, but the relationship between the three of them was not quick. It had never been quick. It had taken a lot of time to become friendly and cordial with one another. The language barrier was non-existent and that helped a lot. But there had been something blocking the two brothers and Natalia from accepting and becoming family in an emotional sense. Elijah then understood where that feeling of familial ties came from.

Natalia reminded them both of Rebekah.

Elijah plunged his hand into a man's chest, the fabric of poor clothing not playing any role in protection. He felt the warmth of the pumping heart quickly transfer from the man's body to Elijah's hand. It no longer beat and Elijah simply tossed it over his shoulder, not paying mind to the blood that was spurting from the man's gaping chest to the stone street.

Elijah sighed and looked around, the crowd that had tried hurting Natalia was nearly gone. They had either fled (of whom Klaus would take care of), or they were dead by the two brothers' hands. It was bloody. Very bloody.

The brunette original bent down and tore off a piece of fabric from a dead man's sack of a shirt. He used the clean fabric to wipe the blood from his lips and chin, making sure to toss the fabric away afterwards. He took in a deep breath and walked calmly over to the trembling, hunched over body of Natalia. He listened to the sound of his shoes clicking against the stone street, focusing on that instead of the terrifyingly ragged breath of the blonde woman. He had only been a few steps away from her, but now, it felt like he had been thousands of horse-lengths away. It was awful.

Elijah reached Natalia, seeing Klaus to be nowhere visible. He had probably chased a survivor down, he thought to himself. He shrugged his shoulders lightly and looked down at Natalia. Her hair was just as distraught as her emotional state. Curls and fly-aways riddled her somewhat unkempt hair. Strands fell around her normally beautiful face. The back of her head, where the base of the skull and the neck met, held hair that was matted to her flesh with dried and fresh blood. Splinters of wood resided in her skin and blisters were popping out around it. He would need to treat that as soon as possible.

Blisters again were found on any exposed part of her body, pustules breaking upon her skin. Elijah thought it reminded him of a non-black version of The Black Plague. Her skin wasn't black but by god it was ugly. He had to keep his breath steady as he looked at each blister and scratch of wood. If he had been human once again, he would've lost his stomach. The sight was gruesome and the ever dripping of pus across her skin made it even more so.

"Natalia?" Elijah questioned, his voice calm and unwavering. He could tell Natalia was in great pain and emotional distress, he didn't want to risk exciting her by speaking loudly.

She did not answer.

"Natalia?" Elijah questioned again, an eyebrow cocked. He knew she was breathing and she was alive (well as alive as a vampire could be). So why wasn't she answering? "Natalia, can you hear me?"

The response was slow.

"I saw him, Elijah." she said, her voice shaking with an emotion that Elijah had not heard from Natalia in the years he had known her. "I saw him."

Who 'him' was, Elijah did not know.

Natalia then turned her head to look up at Elijah, her sky blue eyes that had been dark for so long finally showing emotion. They lit up like the sky but they were not happy. No, they were sad and terrified. It was as if she had committed a heinous crime and she had a conscience tell her how horrible she was.

Elijah was not one for great comfort but he knew that the woman he had strived to protect since they met her, was in dire need of some form of good contact. He wrapped her arms around the shaken woman, a small 'shh' coming from his lips. His chocolate eyes trailed down a little to see the burns of vervain disappearing slowly. He could feel anger boiling inside of him due to the harm that came to her, but for now he would not worry. Natalia needed his presence at the moment. When she was asleep and carefree to the conscious world, Elijah would track down any survivors. However, due to his younger brother's presence, he sensed that Niklaus was already ahead of him.

"Shh," Elijah said, pushing himself into a sitting position, his face twisting in slight disdain at the gore and filth that was probably now crawling onto his nice trousers. But he would allow for such a thing because Natalia was so much like Rebekah at times, Elijah found it endearing. "Do not worry, Natalia. He still loves you," he said, hoping and praying that his words came as comfort…or at least were relevant. Elijah didn't know if 'he' was a lover, or a family member, or a friend. But all loved one if they were linked to one person. In a different way, yes, but at least in a way.

Elijah pulled Natalia into his lap and began stroking her blonde hair lightly. It had been something he would do with all of his younger siblings when they cried or were in discomfort. He would sit somewhere and simply hold them to comfort them. And he viewed Natalia as a younger sister, so when she was in a time of need of comfort like this, he would hold her like he would the rest of his siblings. He could then feel the sobs that began to wrack her body due to the years of her emotions being turned off, and the things she did. He could feel her cry for every person she killed maliciously. He could feel her cry for every life she simply took. He could feel her cry for every body she drained then tossed to the side. And god he could hear her sorrow and regret.

So, he sat there, simply holding the crying woman in the streets of the small city that once shouted her name in adoration.

* * *

Klaus stood still, his eyes narrowing on the scene. Elijah was holding the shaking form of Natalia on the street. He felt his hand clench tightly, drawing his own blood through crescent shapes in his palm. A slight burning sensation threatened to consume his belly and chest. He looked down quickly to ensure there was no stake in his torso, and found none. Confusion was added to the burning he felt. Klaus breathed in deeply through his nose, trying to calm himself to rationally think why he grew so heated over his brother holding Natalia. He thought it pathetic of himself and he shook his head, unclenching his hands in the process.

He was thinking foolishly.

* * *

"Well done, my boy," a grimy voice said in a sickly sweet tone. A young boy, around fourteen years old, stepped into the moonlit area, a shake to his step. "You have made this much easier for me, thank you."

The boy seemed to shudder as the man placed a hand on his shoulder. The man chuckled and used his other hand to give the young boy something, a clinking sound indicating coins.

"Now you do well for yourself, hear me?" the man said, indicating more so a command than a question. The boy could only nod, his blonde hair catching in the light.

It was silent for a moment.

"W-will she be a-alright? Will y-you help her?" the boy seemed to stutter over his words due to fear. Fear of the man or for the fate of this supposed 'her', he did not know.

The older man bent down and smiled wickedly, his yellowed teeth causing the boy to squirm.

"She will be just _fine._ "


End file.
